


Nevermore

by EmilysRose, HighLadyOfTheSith



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Multi, Murder, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, all angst all the time, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilysRose/pseuds/EmilysRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighLadyOfTheSith/pseuds/HighLadyOfTheSith
Summary: This follows what would happen if Bryaxis hadn't helped Feyre in the library and both her and Nesta were captured by the Ravens.Also we're looking for a beta reader, so let us know if you're interested.Find me on Tumblr!Find EmilysRose on Tumblr!Join my discord





	1. The Capture

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this first chapter shall be pulled directly from the book, with some minor tweaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FULL DISCLOSURE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TORTURE, RAPE, AND HEAVY SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. IF YOU ARE, THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR YOU.
> 
> The rest of the series will be original fan content with canon divergence. Please dont expect a happy ending with this fic.  
> (We're still working out the ending but most likely not going to be happy)

I laid my options before me.

  
I doubted the king’s Ravens were stupid enough to be kept talking long enough for my powers to return. And if the king was indeed here … I had to warn everyone. Immediately. It left me with two options:fight or run. I only had a knife on me, but if we ran, we’d endanger the priestesses and have to go right by them. Which would probably lead us into a fight.

  
I considered my options as Nesta distracted them. “If he wants what I took, he can come get it himself!” She yelled. We’d have to fight eventually, but we needed time.

  
“He’s too busy to bother, ” the white-haired male purred, advancing another step.

  
“Apparently you’re not.”

  
I gripped Nesta’s fingers in my free hand. She glanced at me. _I need you to trust me _, I tried to convey to her.__ She considered me with her steely eyes, then gave the barest dip of her chin _ _.__

  
I turned to them.“You made a grave mistake coming here. To my house.”

  
They watched with a predatory stillness. Both pairs of eyes watched as I grabbed Nesta’s hand in my own. “And my house has teeth.” I flashed my own at them, showing them the even rows as my snarl echoed around the still library.

Then I ran, hauling Nesta with me. Not toward the upper levels. But down. Down into the eternal blackness of the pit at the heart of the library. And into the arms of whatever lurked inside it.

  
Around and down, around and down— Shelves and paper and furniture and darkness, the smell turned musty and damp, the air thickened, the darkness was like dew on my skin. Nesta’s breath was ragged, her skirts rustling with each sprinting step we took. Time—only a matter of time before one of those priestesses contacted Rhys. But even a minute might be too late.

  
There was no choice. None.

  
The Faelights ran out. We were swallowed up by heavy, musty darkness as mocking laughter echoed around us. “Not so easy, is it—to find your way in the dark?”

  
“Don’t stop, ” I panted to Nesta, wanting to curse her for her heavy, cumbersome skirts.

  
A high-pitched scratching sounded. Like talons on stone. One of the Ravens crooned, “Do you know what happened to them—the queens?”

  
“Keep going.”

  
“The youngest one—that pinched-faced bitch —went into the Cauldron first. Practically trampled the others to get in after it saw what it did to you and your sister.”

  
“Don’t stop, ” I jerked her upwards by her arm as she stumbled, skirts catching on her feet. We didn’t have the time to stop and cut her dress. “If I go down, you run.” That was a choice that I did not need to debate. I’d buy her the time to get away. If I had to fight till my skin was bloody ribbons--I’d buy her time.

  
“But the Cauldron … Oh, it knew that something had been taken from it. it knew. It was furious. And when that young queen went in …” The Ravens laughed. Laughed as the slope leveled out and we found ourselves at the bottom of the library.

  
“It gave her what she wanted--immortality. A young woman went in... an old, immortal hag came out.” And from the catacombs of my memory, Elain’s voice sounded: _I saw young hands wither with age. _“The other queens won’t go into the Cauldron after that. And the youngest one … Oh, you should hear how she talks, Nesta Archeron. The things she wants to do to you when Hybern is done …”__

  
_Twin ravens are coming. _Elain had known. Sensed it. Had tried to warn us. It was a relief, to know she wasn’t insane.__

  
There were ancient stacks down here. Or, at least I felt them as we bumped into countless hard edges in our blind sprint. Where was it, where was it— Deeper into the dark, we ran.

  
“We’re growing bored of this pursuit, ” One of them said. “Our master is waiting for you.”

  
I snorted loudly enough for them to hear. “I’m shocked he could even muster the strength to break the wards—he seems to need a trove of magical objects to do his work for him.”

  
The other one hissed, talons scratching louder, “Whose spell book do you think Amarantha stole many decades ago? Who suggested the amusement of sticking the masks to Spring’s faces as punishment? Another little spell, the one he burned through today—to crack through your wards here. Only once could it be wielded—such a pity.”  
I studied the faint trickle of light I could make out—far away and high up. “Run toward the light, ” I breathed to Nesta.

“I’ll hold them off.”

  
“No.”

  
“Don’t try to be noble, if that’s what you’re whispering about, ” one of the Ravens cawed from behind. “We’ll catch you both anyway.” We didn’t have time—for whatever was down here to find us. We didn’t have time—

  
“Run, ” I breathed. “Please.” She hesitated. “Please, ” I begged her, my voice breaking.

  
Nesta squeezed my hand once. And between one breath and the next, she bolted to the side—toward the center of the pit. The light high above. “What—” one of them snapped, but I struck. Every bone in my body barked in pain as I slammed into one of the stacks. Then again. Again. Until it teetered and fell, collapsing onto the one beside it. And the next. And the next. Blocking the way Nesta had gone. And any chance of my exit, too. Wood groaned and snapped, books thudded on stone. But ahead … I clawed and patted the wall as I plunged farther into the pit floor. My magic was a husk in my veins.

  
“We’ll still catch her, don’t worry, ” one of them crooned. “Wouldn’t want dear sisters to be separated.” _Where are you where are you where are you--_

  
I didn’t see the wall in front of me. My teeth sang as I collided face-first. I patted blindly, feeling for a break, a corner— The wall continued on. Dead end. If it was a dead end— “Nowhere to go down here, Lady, ” one of them said. I kept moving, gritting my teeth, gauging the power still frozen inside me. Not even an ember to summon to light the way, to show where I was —

  
To show any holes ahead—

  
The terror of it had my bones locking up. No. No, keep moving, keep going—

  
I reached out, desperate for a bookshelf to grab. Surely they wouldn’t put a shelf near a gaping hole in the earth—

  
Empty blackness met my fingers, slipped between them. Again and again. I stumbled a step. Leather met my fingers—solid leather. I fumbled, the hard spines of books meeting my palms, and bit down my sob of relief. A lifeline in a violent sea; I felt my way down the stack, running now. It ended too soon. I took another blind step forward, touched my way around a corner of another stack. Just as the Ravens hissed with displeasure. The sound said enough.

They’d lost me—for a moment. I inched along, keeping my back to a shelf, calming my heaving lungs until my breaths became near-silent.

  
“Please, ” I breathed into the dark, barely more than a whisper. “Please, help me.”

In the distance, a _boom _shuddered through the ancient floor.__

  
“High Lady of the Night Court, ” one of the Ravens sang. “What sort of cage shall our king build for you?”

  
Fear would get me killed, fear would— A soft voice whispered in my ear, _You are the High Lady? _The voice was both young and old, hideous and beautiful.__

  
“Y-yes, ” I whispered. I could sense no body heat, detect no physical presence, but … I felt it behind me. Even with my back to the shelf, I felt the mass of it lurking behind me. Around me. Like a shroud.

  
“We can smell you, ” the other Raven said. “How your mate shall rage when he’s found we’ve taken you.”

  
“Please, ” I breathed to the thing crouched behind me, over me.

  
_What shall you give me?_

  
Such a dangerous question. Never make a bargain, Alis had once warned me before Under the Mountain. Even if the bargains I’d made … they’d saved us. And brought me to Rhys. “What do you want?”

  
One of the Ravens snapped, “Who is she talking to?” _The stone and wind hear all, speak all. They whispered to me of your desire to wield the Carver. To trade._

  
My breath came hard and fast. “What of it?” _I knew him once—long ago. Before so many things crawled the earth._

  
The Ravens were close—far too close when one of them hissed, “What is she mumbling?”

  
“Does she know a spell, as the master did?” I whispered to the lurking dark behind me, “What is your price?” The Ravens’ footsteps sounded so nearby they couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away. “Who are you talking to?” one of them demanded.

  
_I want your firstborn. _It said simply.__  
The air ahead shifted—as the Hybern Ravens closed in. “There you are, ” one seethed.

  
“No, I cannot accept that price” I breathed.

  
A laugh that made my skin crawl. _A pity._  
I felt the dark, lurking presence fade.  
Light sputtered before me, and I blinked at the blinding ball of faelight. I saw the twin Ravens first, that faelight at their shoulder—to illuminate me for their taking.

  
Their attention went to me. Then rose over my shoulder. My head.

  
“Who were you talking to, Lady?” the black-haired one sneered “Don’t tell me that whore taught you how to talk to the shadows”

  
“Don’t you ever call my mate that.” I snarled, gripping my Illyrian blade and inching along the shelf.

  
“What are you going to do about it? Surely you don’t really think you can take both of us on with that pathetic knife? Put it down like a good girl, and I promise not to damage you too badly.”

  
I rushed at him, screaming into the darkness, swinging my knife in front of me. The Raven I aimed at sneered at my attempts, knocking my blade aside with his own. From the side, the other Raven moved into my blind side, and smashed his hilt into my face. Blood dripped down in a heavy flow as my head swam...

  
From behind, I heard Nesta wail out in pain. I spun, realizing that only one Raven was in front of me, the other having winnowed towards the light. I watched the smirk form on his face as he and Nesta both disappeared.

  
Raging, I spun on the black-haired Raven in front of me. He parried my knife, sliding the guard of his sword up and smashing my thumb. I stepped out of range, moving my knife from one hand to the next so I could shake out the pain.

“Where did you take her?”

  
“You should be more worried about yourself Feyre _Darling _, I think I deserve some fun with the prize, don’t you?” he purred, running his talon-like nails down the side of my face.__

  
I snarled, swatting his hand out of my face. “Get your filthy hands off of me.”

  
“Just my hands?” He stepped closer.

“Why don’t you and I have some fun, before we get to Hybern?” he purred.

  
“Fuck off.” I hissed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  
“Oh, I’m going to have so much _fun _with you, Feyre. So much fun, in fact, that you won’t be such a pretty little prize when I’m done with you. Oh don’t worry, I’ll leave you in one piece..” He reached forward--only to jerk backwards as a gust of wind moved through the low, musty air.__

  
From somewhere high above, Cassian’s voice roared out. “Nesta! Feyre! Where are you!”

  
“Shit, looks like that’s our cue.” As I looked up towards Cas, the Raven roughly knocked the knife out of my hand and grabbed me by the waist pulling me flush against him, his hand covering my mouth. I saw Cas’ mighty wings beating through the air, and just behind him, Rhysand’s darker breed of shadows moving through the library, igniting the faelight like stars appearing into the darkness.

“FEYRE--FEYRE, WHERE ARE YOU?” Rhysand’s voice boomed through the darkness, across the stone walls. The Raven, his talons digging into my waist, flinched at the fury and rage laced in that voice. He dragged me further into the shadows.

  
The Raven’s magic was building. I searched through the darkness, knowing that there was no chance to reach him. No chance to fight this-- Goodbye, Rhysand. I love you. Though I knew he couldn’t hear me, I hoped, against all hope, that the message came across.

  
And then the Raven winnowed us away.


	2. Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feyre POV/Rhysand POV

When we touched ground, I immediately brought my elbow up to the Raven’s throat and stomped on the inside of his foot.  I bolted as soon as I felt his grip on my waist loosen.

I paid little attention to my surroundings, wholly focused on putting as much distance between me and  _ him.   _ My head throbbed in rhythm with the pounding of my feet as I ran down a narrow hallway made, no  _ carved  _ of stone.  I was so distracted by the familiarity of this place, that I hadn’t noticed the Raven had winnowed in front of me until  I felt his hand connect to my face. I went sprawling on the floor, back hitting a wall, hand to my cheek. 

“Pathetic,” he growled, “Get up.”

“No.” I said staring him down defiantly, refusing to get up and play his game.  Before I could register what happened, he yanked me up by my arm and brought his arm around my waist, digging his talons through my leathers and into my flesh.

My eyes caught on two familiar ancient, enormous stone doors and my eyes widened.

“Recognize the place, Feyre?” He asked,  pressing me into the wall and laughing as I struggled against his chest. His talons dug deeper into my skin.

“Why are we--” He let me go, and I stumbled against his chest at the sudden release. 

“Run.” He ordered.

I ran. Kicking him for good measure, I ran past his body and moved through old, familiar halls  _ away  _ from that horrible room. We were Under the Mountain.  _ The _ mountain. Old memories swam across my vision. Of the vicious, ugly smell of my cell. Of the hot bars slowly lowering as Lucien screamed at me  to  _ choose _ \--

Distracted again, I didn’t notice the Raven winnowing next to me. In a flash, he was gone, leaving my side aching from the knife he’d slashed across my skin. From further down the hall, he called out, “Too slow--faster Feyre. Faster.”

Heaving, I put my hand to my bloodied side and rushed forward.  

I ran down the hall, fingers brushing against the rough stone as I stumbled. I realized, as I ran, that I knew very little about Under the Mountain. Some halls had collapsed, and I only knew where the Throne Room  and my old cell was, neither of which I wanted to be in.

I wondered, as I stumbled, whether or not Amarantha’s body was still there. Her throat ripped out by the simplest of tools; the savage indents of incisors. 

The Raven came at me again, winnowing so quickly that I didn’t have time to even raise my arms up before he was slashing forward with his knife. It left a trail of fire across my collarbones, one that stung long after he’d disappeared. I kept going. Turning left. Looking for a place where I could make my stand. Find some kind of weapon, maybe. The idea of hitting him over the head with a rock was oddly satisfying. I searched the rubble in front of me for something heavy enough.

Was Nesta here? Had the white Raven taken her--tortured her--here in these halls? Maybe she was stumbling around just like me, trapped in a section Under the Mountain that I couldn’t reach. I ran a little faster. 

When he came again, I was prepared. I punched him as he fully materialized towards my left, hitting his face. He stumbled back--and I was pleased with the fact that I had connected. I watched his head knock backwards, and tried for a kick--but he winnowed away too quickly.

The sounds of his snarl echoed through the stone halls. “You're going to pay for that, you bitch.”

I don't know for how long I ran, or how far we were under the mountain. I now had countless little cuts and scrapes from when he winnowed or when I was just too slow. He was toying with me, showing me how weak I was compared to him and I hated it. I kept running, even though I felt like I’d been doing it for hours.

The Raven came at me again, winnowing so quickly that I didn’t have time to even raise my arms up before he was slashing forward with his knife. It left a trail of fire across my collarbones, one that stung long after he’d disappeared. I kept going. Turning left. Looking for a place where I could make my stand. Find some kind of weapon, maybe. The idea of hitting him over the head with a rock was oddly satisfying. I searched the rubble in front of me for something heavy enough.

“Come at me then, stop fucking dancing around!” I grabbed for a rock, feeling the weight of it in my hand. “Or are you scared?”

“I know who trained you--and I like to toy with my--” There was a gust of air, and then he whispered the word into the shell of my ear before severe pain laced across my side. “Prey.” He was gone before I could turn to him, my rock lost in the rubble as I held my bleeding side. He’d stabbed me with something, something long and sharp. 

“I am NOT prey.” I snarled.

“Aren’t you?” he purred reappearing behind me, trailing the knife up my arm and up to my face.

“No, I’m not.” Still, I trembled, too hurt to knock the blade away. This was different then Amarantha’s torture--this systematic, careful taunting. 

“So you say, but you’re still running away from something stronger than you.” He taunted pulling me flush against him. “Isn’t that what prey  _ does _ ?”

“I--” my reply was cut off by a scream as he dug his talons into the fresh cut on my side.

“Say yes and the pain will go away.” He dug in deeper, and black dots filled my vision. I was only standing because of the support of his arm and the claws.

“Never!” I screamed.

He dug the talons in deeper, bringing a new wave of agony over me. He tightened his grip further, increasing the pain tenfold. “Say it.” He demanded. “Say it now.” He ripped his talons out, shredding the skin of my side further. I felt the already steady flow of blood from my side increase drastically. Dark spots danced along my vision.

“This is your last warning, say it and I’ll let you see your bitch of a sister before she’s killed.”

* * *

 

Rhysand paced back and forth across the library floors. The feeling of power riding through his body like an itch that couldn’t be satiated. He’d grown to live with it a long time ago. It was his constant companion, and he could recognize the signs of it taking over before it even came: the tightening of his skin, the aching pressure of his own power, his restless desire to  _ do _ something. It was all constantly there, constantly riding up and down the surface of his consciousness. 

Along with the overwhelming power was--panic. So raw it felt like it as tearing himself up inside.

Feyre better be alive. Because if she wasn’t--if she was hurt--he was going to tear down the world. Cauldron help Hybern for this. Because Rhysand was going to destroy him.

He couldn’t connect to her yet. The Faebane was still in her system. 

“Where would they have taken her?” Cassian asked. He was standing nervously in the pool of light, looking for the monster that roamed the bottom of the library.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know where the Hybern camp is?”

“No.”

“Do you think they would have taken them to--”

“Cassian,  _ I don’t know _ !” Rhysand roared, releasing a bit of his power and feeling the relief it caused. He’d had too much stored in his body. 

“We have to find them.” Cassian’s face was tight, worry and exhaustion and fury all over his rough-hewn features.

“Yes. We do. Meet me at the house. And bring Amren.” 

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped up, flying quickly up into the air. His consciousness left the library altogether. With a heaving sigh, Rhys tried again to contact Feyre. But her mind was still a blank to him. So he walked upstairs, always careful, always contained, as he took the hurt and aching minds of the priestesses and brought them back to consciousness. They huddled together, naturally seeking comfort as he found more and more. As he worked, half of his magic went to rebuilding the wards surrounding the ancient library, building them back up.

Hybern had risked a lot, destroying the wards here. Rhysand knew the spell, he’d seen it in Amarantha’s little book. It was a one-time thing. Hybern wouldn’t be able to break any more wards.

But the gamble had paid off. They’d taken--

The panic was so raw that he had to draw his powers away from the wards, in case he broke them.  _ Feyre was gone _ . And he had no idea what had happened to her. She was strong, of course. Cassian had taught her how to hold her own in a  fight. Rhys had taught her how to use her powers. She could destroy anything that came at her...

But she’d been taken. From his house. Away from him. And now he couldn’t  _ reach  _ her. 

He took his time rebuilding the wards. He sat down with a few of the priestesses, comforting their aching and vulnerable minds as they had once done for him. Eventually, Mor came. He could tell she knew, even before she opened her mind to him, and that it was time to meet Amren. Mor would stay with the priestesses.

He stood, feeling the urge to fly aching in his back before he rushed to meet Amren.

* * *

“Use the bond.” Amren shrugged. “You can’t get to her because of the Faebane? Then dig deep into the bond. Here, this should help.” She threw a bottle of wine at him.

“This?” It was one of his better selections. He was surprised Mor hadn’t gotten to it yet.

“Numbs the mind.” She sat delicately on the couch, watching Cassian with liquid metal eyes as he paced back and forth. “And take the dogs out before you start.”

“Fuck off.” Cassian hissed.

“All of you--leave.” He didn’t move until they left his townhouse, bickering as they headed down the street. He was glad Amren could do that for Cassian--distracting the warrior from Nesta’s disappearance. 

There was only one thing that would make Rhysand feel better. And that was to have Feyre, safe in his arms.

He pulled the cork of the bottle and drank it as quickly as he could, sitting on a chair and digging for that golden cord in his chest that hummed and gave him life. Eyes closed, he followed it’s golden glow. Deeper and deeper, until he lost the sense of his own body on the chair. Lost the sense of the panic and power inside of him.  He followed the pull of the bond for what could have been an eternity or just a few seconds.

  
And then he felt it \-- felt her.  The pain of his kidney being ripped out of his side. Of his throat--her throat--raw as she screamed **“I AM PREY!”** The words were a plea. A horrible, aching, screaming plea.


	3. Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so if you're sensitive about mentions of rape and gore, DO NOT read this chapter.

“Good, good,” The voice was so close that he--she could feel his breath on her neck. Rhys felt his--her, body tremble. “Now, let’s have some fun, Prey.” Fingers dug deeper into the hole in her side, and Rhys twisted in agony along with her--screaming as the talons dug long lines inside the cavern of her body. “When I tell you to do something--you do it.”

“Go to hell--”

“No. _You_ go to hell, Prey. There’s something I want you to do.” The claws dug in deeper, and Rhys, for the first time, saw the face of the Fae that had taken Feyre away from him. Twisted in vicious glee, his black eyes dead and shallow, his black hair dull against the non-existent light of the stone walls. “Go--” The Fae pushed Feyre away, and she slammed into the floor on her knees, face crushed against minute pebbles.

Where were they? Rhys had no idea. Limited to Feyre’s field of vision, he only saw the watery gaze of stone walls. All he could feel was pure pain and agony that crashed and ebbed into each other. 

“Go!” The man roared.

She took one crawling step forward, hand clutched to her side--and Rhys _pushed_. Pushed as hard as he could. He was pleased when the bond thrummed in power. Pleased when Feyre had the strength to get up off her knees and take a small step forward--

Until the foot slammed into her back and sent her sprawling back down. “I liked it better when you crawled.” Rhys was going to kill this Fae. No--he was going to hold the man down and watch _Feyre_ kill him. “Go. Crawl. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

The tears blurring her gaze grew worse. Rhys followed her as she took one crawling step after the other, following the fae’s directions as he wove them through old stone halls, occasionally kicking her or spitting abuse when she stopped or slowed. He could feel the male’s burning gaze on her form, felt it linger on how her hips swayed as she crawled. Rhys started to feel a hellish sort of realization as she moved. He knew those halls. Had walked them for 49 years of his life.

And he knew the room Feyre was being led to. It was stamped into his brain. Burned there, along with the scent of vanilla and sweat, of claws digging into his chest and his dick uncontrollably hard. Of red hair in his vision and his body pinned so he couldn’t do a thing.

No-- _no_ \-- _no_ . He should leave--he knew where she was now--

Only, he couldn’t. He tried to find his way out, back in his own body. But her mind was surrounded by a dark slimy presence. He couldn’t get out of the damn bedroom that he’d been stuck in for so long he couldn’t even remember what it was like to be with a woman that wasn’t--

He couldn’t leave. He struggled inside of Feyre’s mind as she struggled against the Fae male who picked her up off the floor. He pressed her to his front, his fingers digging back into her side and she could feel how hard he was as he held her there. “You know, this is where it happened.”

Rhys felt paralyzed inside her mind. He felt her struggling, but he was wrapped up in memories. Of her sticking him against that wall Feyre was facing. His arms pinned. His back made raw by whatever Amarantha deemed appropriate: whips, flogs, magic. The pain had sunk in deep, and the only thing that had saved him was knowing that she couldn’t get to his wings.

“Amarantha, she was a bitch, but she knew her way around a torture.” The man laughed against Feyre’s neck. “And the things she did to your mate...”

“I’m going to kill you!” Feyre screamed, fighting back so hard that her own body was hurt in the process. She only fought harder as the fingers seemed to almost touch and grip her spine. Delicate organs twisted around the talons he used to keep her from leaving his grip. 

“Come on, you have to know what she did-- _oh, has he not told you?”_

How could he? How could Rhys begin to describe the things Amarantha did--

Truthfully, he just hadn’t wanted to tell Feyre. Hadn’t wanted the memories of _her_ to muddle with the memories of his mate. Stain the one beautiful thing he was clinging to. 

He never got what he wanted, though. And every time he let himself love. It just turned out so fucking wonderfully for those he let himself love. 

Feyre was thrown onto the bed. “Everything's still here. All her little devices. Thankfully, I’ve got my own.” The man reached down, patting his crotch with a lazy motion. “And it’s much more satisfying.”

Feyre roared, throwing herself off the bed. “I’m going to--” Before she could speak, he winnowed, slamming his fist into her face. She went sprawling on the floor--

Bloodied, torn to ribbons, Amarantha had used her magic to pump his blood more. He’d been laying in a pool of it, so much blood gone that he had seen death--but there was still blood to engorge his dick so she could ride him as he lay, half-dead in his own blood--

“Tell me what you are, Feyre.” The man said, coming over. He sat on her stomach, gripping her jaw with both his hands. “Tell me again that you’re nothing but prey.”

She tried to spit on him. The bloody spittle flew onto her cheek and his thumb. It slid down her face. She was shaking. A low whine had started in the back of her throat and it wouldn’t go away. 

“Tell me, Feyre.” The man leaned forward, flat black eyes showing such furious glee. “Tell me.” His hand tightened on her face. “Think about your sister, Feyre. Think about poor Nesta. She needs you right now. If you don’t do this--she’ll think you _abandoned_ her. You don’t want that, do you?”

 _Please_ . She mouthed. Rhysand could feel the words on her lips, but it was inaudible even to her. He was lost now, in his own desperate attempts not to scream--not to make it worse for himself as Amarantha drug her nails down his chest, as she violently rode him.

“Prey!” She screamed. “I”m prey! I’m prey!”

“Good.” The fae man--unnamed, unknown, slapped her face before pulling away. “Let’s get started then. So we can go see Nesta.”

He flipped her over. She struggled more, and Rhys tried to give her more strength to fight--but he was too numb. Helpless as her hips were pinned down with weight and the male grabbed the back of her hair, slamming her face into the stone floor and breaking her nose to get her to stop.

“No, no. Please, _please._ ” She pleaded, letting out broken sobs.

“No need to beg little mouse, I’ll make sure you enjoy this.”

He ripped at her clothes as she struggled to breathe through the blood. Ripping a hole rather than taking it all off--

Rhys did the only thing he could. He pushed on the bond between them. He flooded her with everything he could; all his happy memories. All his joys. And he forced them on her as she was violated. Tried to take her to a bright, happy place, one he would have liked to have gone to as Amarantha made him service her. Pushed her towards better, brighter things as the pain tore its way through her. 

Rhys felt the presence of someone else in Feyre’s mind. He realized it was the Fae the same moment he realized what the Fae was doing. He tried to stop it, but he had no power here, in Feyre’s mind with only the mating bond to keep them connected. He could only look on in horror as the Fae twisted itself into Feyre’s mind. As he brushed aside the happy things Rhys made her see and _made_ her participate in and _enjoy_ what he was doing to her.

Rhys felt the male’s murky presence find him. _Hello little High Lord, enjoy the show_ . His presence was forced to the front of her mind, where he couldn’t block out was happening-- NO NO...

She started to buck her hips up to meet him. Little sounds--such familiar sounds--started to escape from her mouth as her own slick mixed with the tacky feeling of blood. As the pain in her side intensified as she undulated her hips back to join with him.

He’d arched for Amarantha--moaning loudly as she sank down his length--

And Rhys was with her every step. Was there, feeling the pleasure of a thing he hated--despised how the slow, erotic buildup mingled with--almost depended on--the shame and violation.

He could feel every thrust another male made into _his_ mate and the unwilling pleasure it brought her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was shoved out of Feyre’s mind, feeling a metaphysical slam as he was pushed by the Raven back into his own body. He roared as his magic came over him, as it rushed out in a pleasing, hatred-filled rush. Everything was blackness, everything was his power. He was going to destroy the world. He was going to destroy that Raven; rip the fucker apart with his bare hands and his power and his hatred.

He blinked with his own eyes, looking around his once familiar living room. It seemed so wrong now, alien. It was a space he’d made for himself hundreds of years ago--a home he’d built to have some peace and quiet from the House of Wind. A place of rest. A _home_ \--this was no fucking home. 

Rhys... had to do something. He had to find her. Go to Under the Mountain. Back to that room...

How many nights had he spent in that room? Shackled to that bed? Destroyed from the inside out. Used like a toy. It hadn’t been anything compared to the rest; the murdering of men, breaking the minds of children, the way he’d had to act like such a villain. But it had been such a vital part of it. A break from the murder that had made him _crave_ the moments outside of the bedroom--where he could do something. 

The light, he realized, had changed. It was darker in the living room than it had been when he’d been pushed into his body. Someone was yelling. He moved, feeling the stiffness of his muscles. Realizing that Amren was in front of him. Coming out of the darkness he hadn’t realized he’d built.. He found himself standing. Found that Amren was yelling into his face. 

How much time had he lost? 

It felt like he’d lost a lot more than time, though.

“Rhys--Rhys!” Amren grabbed at him. Her touch was startling. Her little hands were cold, and he flinched from the grip. “Rhys! Stop!”

“Stop?” He pushed her away.

“You’re attacking the city, Rhys, It’s chaos out there--get it together.” Amren snapped.

He walked to the window to look out into the streets of Velaris. His power rolled down the streets, darkness roiling. He hadn’t even known... the entire city was black; blanketed by his darkness. The city he had done everything to protect. The one goodness in his life that he’d held onto in his worst moments. 

He took his power. Sucked it back into his body and pressurized his body with it’s roiling, furious anger. Velaris was the same as ever. The Rainbow glittered in the distance, a jewel of music and color and vibrancy. People walked the streets, more alive at night than in the day. And yet… it felt different, almost empty without her there. Knowing where she was, what had been done to her, his _mate_. 

Amren, behind him, was talking. He winnowed away mid-word, finding himself back under tons of stone and horrible memories. He knew exactly where to go, knew, as if on instinct, the room he’d spent so much time in...

No one was there. The room was musty with the smell of sex. The sheets were still warm from friction and body pressure. But they were gone...

He felt like a failure. He was supposed to protect her. He hadn’t done anything to stop them from taking her, from doing those awful, cruel and vicious things to her. He’d failed her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey this chapter heavily mentions rape.

I tried to fight him off as he was ripping at my clothes, but I could barely stay conscious. The adrenaline was wearing off, being replaced by pure panic. Black dots swam across my vision as the pain of all my wounds hit me. 

I felt the cool air hit my legs as he ripped my leggings off. “NO! Stop! Please!” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. He only put more of his weight on me as I struggled.

All of a sudden, I became unaware of what was going on around me, all i could see was inky blackness. A tiny part of me could feel what the Raven was doing to me, but the feeling was far away.

The darkness started to fade and for a brief second, I felt the Ravens hands on me, the pain as my body scraped against the stone floor when he lifted my hips up, and the unwanted pain and pleasure of him thrusting into me before the blackness closed in again.

 

I floated in the inky blackness, utterly unaware of what was going on around me. 

 

_As soon as I started floating, I stopped, I could feel silken sheets under me and there were hands at my shoulder. I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming. Where was I--where-- the Townhouse…_  
_Jolting up, I scrambled off the bed, hitting--Rhys-- and ran from the bathroom. I gripped the toilet and heaved._  
_I felt Rhys come up behind me and reach for my hair. I flinched, tensing “No. D-don’t pl-please” He didn’t say anything, just left and I relaxed._

_When my heaving stopped, I leaned against the cool porcelain bowl, trying to calm and regulate my breathing._

_Just when I had started to calm down, I felt hands gripping my hips-- It must have been a part of the dream._

_“Rhys!” I whimpered._

_Rhysand appeared before his name left my mouth._  
_“Feyre dar-”_  
_“Don't call me that.” I snarled._  
_“Ok, ok,” he soothed, crouching down in front of me, “do you want to talk about it?”_  
_“I-I don't remember. I-I…. d-don't…”_  
_“Shhh…. It’s okay,” He moved a little closer opening his arms, “come here, please.”_  
_I flung myself into his arms, tightly wrapping my arms around his neck._  
_“A-am I still dreaming?” I asked, again feeling phantom hands ghosting across my body._  
_“No, I can assure you this is real.” He said, tucking me impossibly closer to him.  
_I just clung to him tighter as I felt the phantom sensations grow stronger and stronger until they were all I could feel. Rhys was no longer there and I was floating again.__

___________________________________  
I felt him pull away from my mind at the same time he pulled out of me with a slick gush. With his weight off of me, I curled onto my side, hugging my knees as I felt the wetness ooze down my legs. 

I was shaking. I could barely breathe--didn’t want to breathe. I listened to him. Heard the sounds of his shoes on the stone floor. Of him grabbing something. The slide of fabric. The feeling of magic on the skin--and then, I knew, without any doubt, that he was gone. The air felt different without him there.

I knew that I should try to get away, but I was completely numb, I didn’t think I _could_ get up--I couldn't even stop trembling. Besides, what was the point, even if I did make a run for it, he would only catch me again.

I was prey. _Prey prey prey prey_ \--the word kept repeating itself over and over. _Prey, prey, prey_. I had never felt so weak and helpless, not even as I was dying. I’d _fought_ for something then. Had a purpose. What--

Nesta. _Nesta_. I had to get my sister. Make sure she was safe. 

A violent, horrible sound broke out of my chest. I curled in tighter around myself. _Prey prey prey_ \--my entire body felt raw and throbbed in agony. The hole in my side that was healing, the cuts and bruises, between my legs. I’d never... _never felt like prey before_. 

How could I save my sister like this? 

I had to try. I had to. Tears filling my vision,limbs scattered and off feeling, I desperately tried to uncurl my body. I tried to rise and get up off the bed where I’d been--

Cauldron, where I’d been--

I couldn’t even get up. I rolled onto the floor pounding my fist against the cold, indifferent stone. I screamed, startling myself with the loud sound. Realizing that I hadn’t screamed. Not as I’d been raped. Not once. No, instead I’d moaned and I’d--I’d---

I’d _begged_. Begged for more as a male who wasn’t my mate pounded into me. _Whore. Traitor. Prey. Prey. Prey._ I’d always known that’s what I was. Down to my core, I knew. I’d known it when I fucked Isaac Hale in that barn, known it when I’d left Tamlin, and now, the Raven had reminded me of who I was. _Prey. Traitor. Whore. Liar._

The only saving grace I had--was the knowledge that Rhys would _never_ know what had happened here. That, despite my desire to, I had _enjoyed_ it. Orgasmed harder than I had in... a very long time... The Raven had made me. I _had_ to remember that-- _Whore. Traitor. Prey. Prey. Prey. Prey._ The words kept replaying in my head, my shaking starting anew. 

Distantly I registered the reappearance of the Raven, having winnowed into the room. I flinched at the feeling of cloth hitting my back. I grabbed at them for some reason, holding the familiar fabric of tunic and trousers to my frame--avoiding looking at the male.

“Well, get up, then.” His voice was atrocious. I bit my tongue to keep in my sobs.

“Go away.” I pleaded. I needed more time--needed to never see him again for as long as I lived. 

“Oh, that’s not going to happen. You and me, Feyre, we’re just starting.” I scrambled up--not even knowing where the strength came from--as I felt his hand touch my hip. I was up against the wall before I knew it. “Don’t touch me.” I said, voice quaking. I hated how weak I sounded--like prey, my mind supplied--how weak he made me feel.

“You see, Feyre. Hybern has plans for you. He wants very specific things. But everything else, he doesn’t much care. You and me,” His grin was cold and cruel, the amusement twisted and baren in conjunction with his flat black eyes. “We’re going to play some more--before Hybern decides to toss you aside or kill you.” 

He crouched in front of me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, anyway.”

“No.” I denied, voice wobbling, closing my eyes and shaking my head.

He nodded, as if hearing every emotion in my single, broken warble. “Don’t make me dress you myself. It won’t be pleasant--”

“Go away. I’ll dress myself.”

His hand shot out before I could register the movement. I felt the crack and pain of it as my head was slammed to the side. “Don’t interrupt me. And don’t order me around.” He snarled at me. “Get dressed.”

With shaking fingers, I slowly grabbed for the tunic he’d given me. I tried to put it on over my old one--but he tsked--and I put the new tunic away. I was very careful in taking the shirt off my head and keeping myself covered. I didn’t want him to see me--to have any more of me. I wouldn’t allow him to defile me even more.

It was the most excruciating experience of my life. Having his eyes on me, his salacious and malignant gaze burning my skin. When I was done, I stood on wobbling legs, facing him. “That’s a good little mouse.” he said. 

When he went to grab my arm, I shrank back, pressing herself further against the wall.

“Don't touch me!” I shrieked, trying to get away from him but my legs gave out and I tumbled back to the floor. 

“It’s a little too late for that, Feyre _darling_ ,” he mocked and I flinched at the reminder of Rhys, “I doubt the King would find any use for you, maybe he’ll let me keep you. Be good darling and stay still, we need to go.” 

I stopped breathing when his hand grabbed for my arm and I was taken away in the rushing wind of winnowing.


	5. Chapter 5

I blinked at the sudden brightness, I hadn't realized how dark it was under the mountain. How little light penetrated deep, deep under tons of earth and stone. Here, in the open plains--I flinched from the arm still holding me. Nearly falling to the ground as I tried to avoid the sunlight stabbing at my eyes. 

It felt wrong to look at the sun. To feel it’s warmth on my skin, I felt undeserving of its warmth... Looking around, I realized that I was outside some kind of massive, sprawling camp. In open air. I could run---

“Don’t.” The Raven hissed. “I will find you. I will catch you. You really think a little mouse like you could escape?” He licked his lips as I looked at him, completely repulsed by the image of him chasing me down. “You’ll only make things more pleasurable for me.” He cooed in my ear, then licked a hot stripe up the shell of it. I flinched from the sensation. I nearly fell down onto the ground as he released my arm, not having realized how much I’d been leaning away from him. “Go, entertain me.”

I refused to move. My feet were suddenly rooted to the spot. Before I knew what had happened, I was sprawled out on the grass, my face throbbing. _Prey._ I shut my eyes, trying and failing to suppress the sobs bubbling in my chest. I felt his weight settle over my hips. “Didn’t I tell you to do something?” He demanded. 

“I--I can’t” I sobbed.

“You disobeyed me, and we can't have that, now can we?” 

I was beyond forming words now, I couldn’t stop sobbing. _Whore. Traitor. Weak. Prey. Prey. Prey._ I moved to get up onto my elbows, my entire frame aching at the pressure he exuded onto my hips. 

“Good.” He got up fully, towering over me. “Run.”

I rushed up, nearly tripping on a rock as I moved across the plain. There was a large, open field to the east. Towering mountains that looked like the edge of the Dawn Court border. I scanned the area, seeing the large, towering structures that housed Prythian’s greatest libraries. 

Day. I’m in Day. In Helion’s court. I wondered if he knew the army was here. Wondered if he’d allowed them to camp here. He was Rhys’ best ally--

My knees gave out under me. I crashed onto the grassy field. Rhys. Cauldron, _Rhys._ I could fly to him. I could winnow away. My magic was back, why hadn't I tried to escape yet--

As if in answer, the Raven’s hand grabbed a fistful of my hair. 

“Don’t even try, we both know that a pathetic little mouse like you could never beat me.”

No. No. NO. I am a wolf, not a mouse, not prey but a _wolf._ And I am tired. Tired of him making me feel less than I know I am. How was I supposed to go back to my mate if... 

I _had_ a mate to go back to…

If he would even want me back after he found out what I already knew about myself. _Whore. Traitor. Weak. Prey._

“That’s right, darling, when I’m done with you, your precious mate won't even want to look at you, much less, well…” His laughter was cruel. “Let's say I've made my _mark _on that pussy.”__

__I screeched, my finger digging into the dirt. “Rhys will always love me!” I had to believe that, but I sounded unsure, doubtful, even to myself._ _

__“Will he after I make you mine?”The Raven leaned closer, pressing my front further into the dirt. I wailed as he jerked me upright. My spine bowed backwards at the tight grip, and I stumbled as he roughly pulled me flush against him._ _

__I tried to twist away as his hand came up to grab my breast. “Well? You think he’ll want you when I've got you so used to my cock that you can’t even get off unless it’s me or you feel like prey? Or when you get hurt? Do you think he’ll want you after he finds out you enjoyed our first bout and that you enjoyed everyone after? When he finds out that it was the best you’ve ever had? Do you really believe he’s not just going to toss you off the top of a mountain?” he asked, palming my breasts the entire time._ _

__“Rhys... Rhys will always love me!” My breaths quicked and despite myself, I enjoyed the way he was rolling my nipple-- I moaned. _Whore. Traitor.__ _

__“We’ll see if you change your mind when we’re all said and done, darling” His grip tightened. With a cruel yank, his other hand let go of my hair and trailed down south, before abruptly stopping its trail across my abdomen._ _

__“What do you want?” He snapped, looking over his shoulder._ _

__“I heard there was a party out here.” A smooth voice said. I knew that voice--Jurian. It was Jurian. “Hybern felt you and wanted to know where you were, Jouda. Balta’s been here with the Hellcat for a day now. He’s impatient.”_ _

__The Raven, Jouda, hissed. He seemed to collect himself quickly. “I was going to surprise him with my little prize.” The male’s hand on my breast moved to my waist, and he gripped the side of my face as he turned us around to face Jurian. “All good things take time. And she _was_ rather _willful_.” _ _

__I looked to Jurian, seeing his familiar blue eyes. He was sneering at us, eyes swiveling in familiar glides to take in every detail of us. “Well, it isn't much a surprise when you brag about what you’re going to do to half of the fourth regiment.”_ _

__“I’m rather busy right now, be a good dog and lay at your master’s feet,” Jouda growled._ _

__“As much as I hate to interrupt--” Jurian’s gaze met mine, and his mouth cut a cruel line. “Whatever _this_ is... The King requires your presence.” He sneered. “Immediately_.” He elaborated when Jouda made no move to leave._

_“Let him know I’ll be there shortly. I just have to make sure this one stays on her best behavior.”_

_“Leave now!” he growled when Jurian just stood there._

_“Fine, but you know he hates to be kept waiting.” He said walking away._

_He brought his hands back up to my breasts. “Now, where were we?” One of his hands started to trail back down. I knew what to do, as his hands groped me. As he squeezed me and ran his hands across my frame. I leaned and arched into the touch, moaning loudly at the feeling of his hands. “What a good little mouse.” He chuckled, his tongue coming out to lick the side of my neck, before his teeth sank into the flesh. Just enough that I flinched back from the sensation. He chuckled again._

_A little bit closer. I needed him just a little bit closer. I moved a little, pressing my ass to his groin, feeling his erection. “Please” I whimpered, grinding against him in emphasis._

_His hand left my skin, and I waited patiently as he took his cock out of his pants and grinded against my ass once more. And then--_

_It was already inside of me. Waiting. It came out without any warning; no licks of flame, no warning heat. I was flames. Burning and hungry. As flames, I devoured him. Took from him as much as he’d taken from me._

_His screaming was almost as good as the orgasms he’d teased from my body, one thrust at a time._

_Jurian, who’d only been a few yards away, turned around at the sounds of Jouda’s screaming. He watched a bit dispassionately as he came over. “Naughty, Feyre, very naughty.” He said, shaking his head. “Get up Jouda--”_

_“It _burns_!” The Raven screamed. “That bitch burned my fucking dick.” _

_“Have Hybern heal it then--Come on. I think it’s time to get the collar.”_

_I turned to run, not even waiting to see what this collar was. I got two feet before something knocked into the back of my head, and blackness took over my vision._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character death!! Nesta-bashing for plot reasons.....

I woke up to heat. And the sensation of something slamming into my face. I spat out the blood, finding that my head couldn’t move. A large male hand--Jurian’s hand--was pressing the right side of my face to the rough surface of an igneous stone. It’s sharp, jagged edges dug into my cheek, ripping skin. My upper shoulders were supported by the stone, but my neck wasn’t. The stone had been shaped oddly, so my neck hovered over a depression.

I didn’t understand why, until I smelled the fires. The pungent smell of burning metal. And realized that the heat I was feeling wasn’t coming from me--my magic had been taken by faebane again, and was trapped behind that impenetrable wall--but was all around me. The whoosh of billows was somewhere to my left. The roar of flames echoed everywhere across the room. 

“Let me go!” I screamed.

A man with burn scars came forward. I flailed under Jurian’s hands, trying to get away and was surprised that he let me. I could barely lift my head up, though. I had been strapped to the strange stone altar, a tight leather band pressed across my back so I couldn’t move. 

The man came closer. In his hand was a piece of curved metal, shaped almost like a c, with red burning tips. 

I realized all at once what he was going to do with it. I struggled harder. 

“It’s only going to burn more.” Jurian said, almost casually. Sweat was rolling down his temples from the heat of the forge. 

He was right. There was no keeping the man from putting the metal around my neck, and the more I struggled, the more the metal pieces burned at my skin, tenderizing the flesh so the pain of the burns dominated over the pain in my hands as I struggled to free them from their bindings. There was no stopping the burning when the blacksmith with his burned hands started to hammer away at the metal, bringing the hot points together with mighty slams. I found my head jerking off to the side, crushed under the pressure. The heat of the metal touched my neck every few seconds and the smell of burning flesh and hair was everywhere. Every swing of the hammer brought a new wave of agony.

I passed out a few times. But always awoke to the vibration of another hammer strike. To the pain of burns growing deeper.

I woke to the feeling of hitting the floor due to the leather strap being taken off my chest.

“Come on Feyre, don’t make me have to attach a leash.” Jurian said pulling me to my feet and angling his head to the exit of the forge.

“Prick.” My head felt light, and I looked up to see the vision of him swimming in front of me. “What...why... why am I not healing?” I should be healing. The burns should at least be closing.

“It’s a collar, made up of a mixture of iron and the blue stone that blocks your magic.”

 _No,no,no NO_. I desperately reached down to winnow, sprout wings, anything, but was only met with emptiness. Like a vast barrier keeping me from a part of myself. 

_Rhys. RHYS!!!!!_ Nothing, now how was I supposed to get out of here?   
“Come on, Jouda’s already livid, don't make it worse by being late, trust me, you’ll be lucky if he lets you die. You better hope that when the King’s done, he doesn’t toss you to him, it won’t end well.” He pulled me with him as he left the forge. The cold air hit me like a slap to the face. With every movement the metal rubbed against my raw skin, making my vision dance more. 

The forge was situated outside of the camp and as we approached the entrance I saw it was flanked by six guards. As we passed them, I didn’t dare let my shoulders slump. Not as we headed down the broad artery lined by tents and forges, fires and—and things I did not look at, did not even turn toward as the sounds coming out of them charged at me. This place made the Court of Nightmares seem like a human sitting room filled with chaste maidens embroidering pillows.

We moved through the camp, Jurian’s hand a vise on my arm as we made it through the mud of the camp. I could barely see straight, barely keep my eyes open. I focused on not passing out. Only my mucky feet moving from cold mud to dry earth signalled a change. I forced myself to look up, to really pay attention.

We were in in a tent. A huge one, with billowing crimson silk walls that moved with the wind from outside, making my tired eyes feel like we were in some beast’s belly. Already swallowed. It was hot inside, and wet. The strange, unfathomable alien power I could feel vibrating through the air, like mist on skin, could only come from one thing. I was near the cauldron. It was here--here-- 

If I could get to it. Touch it maybe... but I didn’t have the Book. Maybe if I tried without it, I could stop Hybern... didn’t matter if it killed me in the process. I had to try.

“Come on.” Jurian moved us forward, ignoring how I stumbled maybe just a bit harder than before so I could look around. There was lush furniture. The curve of some chairs. A desk covered in papers. We moved past that, where a huge silk sheet hung from the tent floor, blocking the view of the back. 

On the other side, someone was crying. 

“Hybern, I have her.” Jurian called. He grabbed the sheet and flicked it over with his hand. And I saw. Saw Hybern, saw Jouda and his white raven brother. Saw Nesta, lying on the floor, her clothes ripped off, sobbing.

“Nesta, Nesta!” I struggled against Jurian’s hold on me. But my body stilled totally as Jouda looked at me, his flat black eyes lighting up as he took me in. Took my collar in. I watched him lick his lips, feeling an awful, hot shame settle its way inside of me as I stopped struggling. I didn’t want to have his attention.

Still, I couldn’t look away from Nesta. She looked fine. There were no bruises, no cuts, no collar. She looked almost as she had in the library when I’d first seen her immortal perfection--so beautiful it was like a punch to the gut. But all that pride was gone. Her white face was splotched with color as her dead grey eyes cried. As she tried covering herself with shaking hands. 

She noticed me. She was slow about turning her head to look at me. And when she did, I wailed with her--tears streaming down my face alongside hers. 

_Where were you?_ Her gaze seemed to say. _I needed you--you left me--where were you?_

“Oh Cauldron,” And the Cauldron, somewhere in the tent, responded to that blessed plea. It pulsed in the air like warm, wet blood. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I tried--I tried--Nesta.” Jurian let me fall to the hard packed ground. I tried to crawl to her--but Jouda’s eyes were on me. Keeping me pinned. “Nesta, oh god, are you okay? Nesta?”

A heavy sigh rustled through the red silk of the room. “How touching. A family reunion.” Hybern’s voice was a cold, awful thing. “Glad to see she didn’t die from the collar.”

“She’s a strong one.” I flinched from Jouda’s voice. From his glee.

“She’s still trying to get to the Cauldon, get on with it.” A chair appeared out of the pocket, and I noticed Hybern sitting in it, his legs crossing so one ankle rested on the other knee. He sat with his arms on the ornate, wooden chairs rests. His fingers steepled over his lips. “Oh, and Jouda? Make it entertaining.”

“And I get her? After?” I hated the possessive nature of Jouda’s voice. How it crawled up my skin, into it. 

Hybern seemed to consider that. His ancient eyes took me in as I trembled there, then looked to my poor, crying sister. “Yes--why not. I only needed this one.” He flicked his eyes back to me. “Keep her alive, though. I want Rhysand to have the chance to collect his little... mate.”

I was trembling. I wanted Rhysand to find me. I wanted Rhysand to come in and see what had been done and kill Hybern and Jouda where they stood. The idea of his bloody hands ripping the two apart was so vicious, so pleasurable, I had to grip the earth under me. The grit under my nails felt good. Real.

And then I felt that tendril of another mind. Felt it swell inside of me as I lost the grounding sensation of the earth under me.

 _Nesta is the reason why I’m here_. My gaze snapped to Nesta. Her dead, grey eyes were accusing. _Demanding_. She was always demanding things of me. To protect her. To provide for her. To fight and crawl and struggle so she could sit there, sneering at me, telling me it wasn’t enough. _I should have let the Ravens take her. Should have been relieved they were finally taking her out of my hands._

It would have made my life so much easier. I’d be home, with Rhys. Not here. Not with the memory of Jouda’s hands on me, his cock inside of me. Not with the aching burns on my neck so deep it was debilitating. If I only let my cruel, prideful sister go a long, long time ago--I wouldn’t even have been out in those woods. I wouldn’t have found that wolf. Wouldn’t have met Tamlin. I wouldn’t have met--

 _It’s all her fault!_ It was--this bitch. This cruel, awful bitch. 

My limbs didn’t feel like my own when I crawled forward. My pain was a distant thing, more a part of those moving red walls than a part of me. “Feyre?” Nesta’s voice was so cold-- _so dismissive!_ “Feyre--what’s wrong with you?”

_Nothing. Nothing was wrong with me. For the first time in my life, I was free. I was going to do what I’d always wanted. What I’d been wishing for in my ugly, vile heart. I was going to be free._

I wanted to be free, so, so bad. But-- _But nothing. I had to do this. It was the only way._

I was beside her now. I leaned over her. “Why are you naked?” _I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care--_

“They...” And she didn’t have to say it. I saw it, in her gaze. That fragile thing cracking away at her prideful walls. The flat, gone thing in her gaze. 

_Good_. My poor Nesta--

_She’d stood there, in that cottage, day in and day out. Never helping, never trying. She’d sneered when I took pleasure and used Elain’s paints. She’d tried scraping off the flames on her dresser drawer. She’d never once thanked me for making sure she was fed. That she had money for her silly, superficial ribbons. So she could keep pretending she was the Merchant Prince’s eldest daughter. Maybe it was time that Nesta got a taste of the dirt and much. Maybe it was time she realized she had to fight, too._

Our tears rolled together. My shaking hands reached out to grab Nesta’s. There was so much dirt under my nails, it looked wrong on her white skin. _No, she knew no dirt. She knew no struggle_.

I saw her face. Her furious, demanding face as she disappeared into the Cauldron, pointing that accusing finger. It had been so brave, so-- _arrogant _.__

__I reached over, I smoothed her hair from her face. Just like Mother’s hair. It was soft to the touch. _I need to tell her. I have to tell her what I feel _. “You treated me like a slave all my life. A hindrance.” Her nearly dead gaze snapped to mine. “Always dismissing me. Always demanding...” I stopped. She’d also held me as a child. Nursed me back to health when I was sick. Looked for me when no one else did--her strong mind realizing how wrong my disappearance had been--___ _

_____She ruined my life!_ _ _ _ _

____Nesta wailed as my hands in her hair turned into claws. As I gripped her hair so tight silky strands fell out. My words echoed inside my head, coming down from some deep, buried place where I never lingered. That part of me that killed to survive. That could do--terrible things._ _ _ _

____“You never trusted me with Elain. It was like you thought I could actually hurt her.” The thick, bloody mist in the air sung with the words. _Elain--Elain_ \--it seemed to beat. “Like you thought I was capable of doing something like that! Like _I was the bad guy--but I was your sister too!_ ” _ _ _ _

____“Ahh--yes. Next, next is Elain.” Someone was saying. Someone with an ancient, cold voice. The bloody air, the beast, screamed out it’s pleasure. And I was screaming with my rage. Below me, Nesta was screaming, too.  
“No! No! Get away from me! Get away from me you vile--”_ _ _ _

____Something in me snapped. I grabbed her beautiful, slender neck in my hands. I had none of my magic. But I wasn’t weak. I’d never been weak. “I hope you rot, Nesta Archeron.” I snarled, watching her face go red. Her nails dug into my forearm, but that pain was so-so far away by now. All I felt was my fury._ _ _ _

____She was trying to say something. As her face got redder, her lips got paler. I let her have just a little gasp of air, to hear--_ _ _ _

____“I--I love you--I love you--I love--”_ _ _ _

_____Lies! All lies! I was never the loved one!_ I squeezed harder. I pressed down so hard that something broke, some vital part of her throat concaving with the pressure. And my sister’s beautiful face turned from red to purple. And her nails stopped digging into my flesh--_ _ _ _

____The misty, hot, blood filled air turned into thick soup around me. It seemed to sigh, seemed to rejoice in its terrible, unknowable strength._ _ _ _

____I was suddenly alone. My forearms screamed at me, but it was nothing in comparison to my neck, back and skull. I was burning--I was burned._ _ _ _

____I looked down at my sister’s dead face. And as Hybern started to laugh--I screamed._ _ _ _

____Nesta-- what had I done?_ _ _ _

____No no-- Nesta--my sister…_ _ _ _

____I-I killed her--_ _ _ _

____“That was more entertaining than I thought it would be, good idea, Balta.” Hybern’s voice grated on my nerves. But I wouldn’t look at him. All I could find myself doing was smoothing Neta’s beautiful hair against her head. It was just like mother’s hair._ _ _ _

____“See what you can do about getting that other sister--I have meetings. Jouda, she’s yours.” And then Hybern was gone, his presence disappearing from the silk walls of the tent in an instant._ _ _ _

____My sister’s hair was so-so soft. Her red face was getting paler and paler, the blood no receding but seeming to get pinker every second. She’d died with the strangest expression on her face--almost as if she was forgiving--_ _ _ _

____I turned, barely managing not to puke on her as the acid rose up my throat._ _ _ _

____I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed--_ _ _ _

____A hand gripped at my hair. I screamed as the jerk broke whatever scabs had formed over my burned neck. The metal rubbed at my skin raw and new blood flowed with the tacky that had dried in my hair and neck. I welcomed the black dots that danced around my vision. Welcomed how it obliterated the image of my sister’s face, forgiving me._ _ _ _

____“What are you, Feyre?” Jouda’s voice was so familiar, breathing intimately across the shell of my ear as the moist blood of the Cauldron’s presence started to thrum along with my heartbeat. Mixing with the blood flowing across my neck._ _ _ _

____There was no hesitation. I knew what I was. “I am a monster.”_ _ _ _


	7. Chapter 7

“Take off your clothes, Mouse.”

My numb fingers grabbed the bottom of my shirt. I flung it over my head. I welcomed his flat black eyes, how disgusting his gaze was as he and his white-haired, white-eyed twin stood next to him. Both looked at me with hunger. 

My pants went next. I stood in front of them, welcoming the pain to take away the numbness wrestling itself in my body. I refused to look at my hands. Refused to remember the soft texture of hair, the sickening crunch of a windpipe under white skin--

“So obedient now.” The white Raven, Balta, said.

“All that pathetic fight gone.” Jouda laughed. I said nothing. Just waited. “Feyre, I think it’s time you pay me back for your little outburst earlier.” 

I didn’t fight them. Didn’t want to. I welcomed their humiliation, their pain. I let them have my body as I lost myself in my mind. It hurt more, to remember the good days. Of Nesta dancing in the living room, talking with father. Of helping Elain in the garden in our estate. But I thought of it anyway. I thought of my prideful, strong sister as they used me for their pleasure. As the pain became the haunting burn of pleasure.

It became hard to distinguish between the two. Their mouths were both warm and their grips on my flesh strong. One would be inside of me, then another would be gripping sensitive flesh and twisting it. As I felt the sharp, dry burn of something entering the ring of muscles in my ass--I had no idea who was in front of me, already buried to the hilt inside of me. They rolled me over on top of them as someone's’ hand--behind me, in front of me?--grabbed my mouth to keep in my scream. Whichever was behind me decided tearing into me and using the blood was enough. I bit into the hand around my mouth, if only to have something to alleviate the pain.

A sharp, wicked laugh sounded. Then a fist crashed into the side of my head. My teeth left the flesh and suddenly no one seemed to care about my screams. I welcomed it. Welcomed the sharp pain that was turning into a kind of numbing fire. They moved in unison with each other, entering and leaving me at the same time, filling me till i felt like i was going to split in two.

What would Rhysand say? He’d asked me once, if I’d wanted a partner in our bed. Helion, maybe--

That way lay madness. I closed my eyes and let their hands tear me one way or another, let their mouths bite and their claws tear as they used me for their savage pleasure. It didn’t matter anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

I was roused from my nightmares- filled with the forgiveness on Nesta’s face that had remained even as the light left her eyes- by a sharp kick to the ribs. Forgiveness was replaced by scorn and flat black eyes.

I barely even flinched, it was nothing compared to the painful emptiness my soul had become, much less what I deserved. 

A hand gripped my hair, yanking me up off the mat I was curled up on. I didn’t scream at the torturous pain in my ass, or at the dried blood sticking to my skin. “Get up,” Jouda said, “Your High Lord refuses to bargain with the king. We are going to give him some incentive.” 

He yanked me up again, making me hit my head against the bars of the cage they’d tossed me in earlier. He nearly ripped out my hair out as I was tossed out of the cold, tiny cage in the corner of his tent. I hit the hard, packed earth with a resounding thump that vibrated through my body. 

“You ready for this, Feyre? It’s time for a little payback for your fire stunt.” He flashed me his teeth, a savage grin.

I didn’t have time to question him. I saw the knife, a flash of light. I didn’t have time to brace myself for the pain of the cut along my forearm. We both watched the blood well up and flow down my arm. Jouda’s eyes were on me, fascinated, while I felt almost disconnected from the world around me. After all, wasn’t this exactly what I deserved for what I did to my sister? I deserved to be tortured for the rest of my immortal life, for as many years as I’d taken away from her when I killed her.   
“I do so enjoy your thoughts darling.” Jouda purred, his lips brushing against my cheek. “This is exactly what you deserve,” he said, his knife flashing, digging the knife deeper into my arm, “To be my plaything for as long as you live.” 

“Yes.” It was. I deserved this. He smiled, face alight with cruel delight.

“Let’s get started then, darling.”


End file.
